Vissitudes
by QueenYoda
Summary: A series of varying one-shots focused around many different characters during times of acceptance, joy, humor, fluff and friendship! Chapter six: Anakin is not jealous of some snot-nosed little monster, even if he is getting awfully close to his master.
1. Chapter 1

Round one (Qui-gon and Tahl)

_Summary: Qui-gon comes home to an old friend._

* * *

She was waiting for him when he arrived. Not in due at all to a call that the venerable and prudent Jedi had made to her earlier, announcing his imminent arrival…

Or, that is what he planned on saying to Mace should the stern Jedi find them roving the halls after the council meeting. He hadn't yet made up an excuse of why he was dragging his apprentice along. He trusted Obi-wan's quick tongue would come up with an excuse fast enough. For some reason, the boy had become quite the linguist.

_One thing I do not loathe him is his position on the council,_ Qui-gon continued in thought blearily, going back to the subject of his old friend. He took into account that the council members had to be ready to convene with any (or, if the situation demanded it, which quite often it did, every) Jedi team and ruminate on the problems of the galaxy at any time day or night.

And if the chrono had read correctly last time he checked it, it was three o clock in the morning about now.

He had not slept in three days, but he had no intention of sleeping quite yet, foolish as it may have been. He had quite the reputation amongst the temple for being foolish with his actions. Obi-wan was the cautious one…At times. He glanced at his Padawan, walking next to him.

The grave and steady look the still young child's eyes gave him away. He was about to keel over from exhaustion. Obi-wan did not show it, he was seventeen after all, and trained well in self-control and outer imagery.

Qui-gon knew his apprentice would be caught dead before he was caught looking as exhausted as he felt. It would be unfair to drag him along. All the same, Qui-gon was proud of him, Obi-wan had acquitted himself well on this mission, as well as always. He deserved the rest.

Qui-gon Jinn banished his Padawan to exile in the land of sleep with a mere proud glance. The stumbling child, still trying in vain to recover from their hard-won mission, nodded without question.

Years as Qui-gon's apprentice had taught him that at times, he just did not need to know what Qui-gon was doing or where he was going. He had grown wise. With a near flawless bow, he vanished down the opposite corridor, and they took separate paths.

The apprentice walking down the dimly lit halls of the temple towards their quarters while Qui-gon took a detour. Leisurely, the aging Jedi Master continued down the deserted halls.

The pale golden lights that sat snug upon the sterilized white walls of the Temple cast an eerie glow all around, staining everything into golden light. It reminded him of Tahl. Her own tawny skin was this same hue of golden silk.

Qui-gon smiled dully, remembering the explanation that young initiates learned about what the gold of these night lights represented. There was always an explanation of why within the Temple, forever a story, never a gap left. He only wished that at times the why made as much sense as the how and who. The Jedi Order was a stoic lot, dedicated, proud and ultimately, very, very strict.

It was why he, the rebel of old, was always on the move according to his about to be host. At last, he came upon the one door he had been looking for in the expansive labyrinth called his home. The doors to his destination slid open before he had even fully reached them to chime. He stepped in without hesitation, and smiled at the scene that assembled before him.

Through the Force's currents, he felt her, and his heart gladdened. It had been far too long since he had seen his childhood friend. "Its about time you got here," Tahl said, brushing past him from the kitchen to the living area, where she sat elegantly on the ground. His favorite cup of tea lay steaming on the table before the Sabbacc board.

"Where's Obi? Has that child hurt himself again?" Tahl asked softly. Qui-gon snorted at the allusion. Tahl was not a quiet person by nature, though some might have called her coy, the only reasons he lowered her voice low was because of the late hour…And him.

All the same, he was not surprised that her first concern was for Obi-wan. That boy was the one subject of which they could always agree. She being the one who had introduced him to his current apprentice, she took a staunch interest in Obi-wan's welfare. And took any injury he sustained out on Qui-gon's head.

She had known him before Qui-gon after all, a tool which they used to tease Obi-wan unmercifully. Often, they would conduct games to see who knew the child best, it never ceased to make him blush and stammer with embarrassed pleasure.

"He's fine," he replied calmly, striding over to deftly land on his knees at the table. He ignored the creak in his bones. Being a peacekeeper did not lessen the effect of time's wheel, as he was coming to find.

The only light within the room came from two candles. One was behind Tahl, setting a small glow around beautiful auburn locks and large dark eyes. He stared, mesmerized by such angelic beauty, the halo that the Force as well cast from her inner being.

The Living Force sang with natural harmony. He inhaled deeply, feeling his bones ease. A non-Jedi, one who knew such things better, would have called the atmosphere romantic. And in retrospect Qui-gon would have been forced to agree. Tahl possessed such appealing simple beauty that it somehow made him loose his hard-fought self-control and focus, especially at this angle and while he were so fuzzy.  
Yet, _that _image was not to be. They were Jedi. He shifted on his knees, releasing frustration, regret, into the Force. What was not to be was not something he wanted to dwell upon. _What was_ happened to be of more importance. It always was.

He glanced down at the Sabbacc board. They would have to play blind. That was fine with him. He had not beheld Tahl in candlelight in years. Her slim neck caught his attention, the way her skin glowed within the light, or perhaps that was the light glowing within her….

"He sustained no injury, thankfully. But the child is exhausted. I sent him to bed," a pause. "And I faired no harm, either, thanks for asking," he ended. "Oh, I didn't particularly care about you," Tahl lied smoothly, sipping her tea. He cocked a brow at that.

"A Jedi does not tell untruths," he lightly stated. "Nor do they pester their comrades at all hours of the day or night. Really, Qui, one might think you need a babysitter," she quipped with all the dry humor of the aforementioned boy. Qui-gon felt this chuckles vibrate through his body rather than hearing them. Tahl had that affect, and the sweet incense of the candles did little to hinder the situation.

It was a good night for them, those of old friends who had been apart for much too long. And it was leading up to be even better. He could sense it. "That's what Yoda is for, no?" He inquired, Tahl glared at him with open affection. "I'm going to make sure he hears you said that," she threatened.

Qui-gon made a great show of looking unworried, stimulating a laugh from the fair damsel. "Alright, brave man," she continued, shaking her head at him. Her eyes strayed coyly to his tunic and cloak. "Get comfortable," she purred, leaning forward.

"Round one begins now."

* * *

Hey guys, I know I haven't been around for awhile! Trust me, it has been hurting me much more than it has hurting you. Thankfully, I have a set date for the release of my newest Jedi Legends installment. Tune in on June 16, 2014 for the start of my new fic, its huge! And to celebrate my hitting the eight hundred page mark, I've posted this. These are just some cute one-shots of various characters that started out as stories but never made it past a few chapters.

~Queen Yoda.


	2. Chapter 2

Early risers

Summary: The Council chamber isn't as calm as it looks.

* * *

Mace Windu was one of the most revered Jedi Masters within the Temple. This knowledge was something that he carried with him always. He was never boastful about it, or even mildly in possession of pride. Mace Windu was proud of many things, but being himself was rather an endeavor which he saw as essential. A Hutt was not proud of himself for sliming, and a Toydarian for flying. It was natural, and not necessarily a choice.

Still, having once been apprenticed to Grand Master Yoda, he was perceptive enough that he knew about the obvious esteem his fellow council members held his opinion in. Next to Yoda, he was the most powerful and most revered among them.

Next to _Yoda _who was not regularly wrong, the one man no one questioned. The Grand Master had lived longer than any of them, almost a thousand years. Some thought that he had been the initial founder of the Jedi Order itself. Yoda was in all shapes and in all definition's, the supreme commander of Jedi, the omnipotent vessel of the Force, the all-knowing sage of wisdom.

Even to the council members whom Yoda had raised believed this at some level. But Mace knew better. He had spent his childhood beneath the tutelage of Grand Master Yoda. He knew, better than anyone, that even Yoda made mistakes. Master Yoda was not infallible, not all knowing.

He needed someone to help him sometimes, a friend who was not afraid to tell him that he was wrong. It was a tough job, but Mace never ran from a challenge. His real purpose for being in the council, the entire reason the force had granted him the opportunity, he believed, was because Yoda needed someone to tell him _no_. And they lived to serve the force, did they not?

So when the moment came upon them when Yoda was wrong again, Mace did not argue with him publicly. That was not a good idea. People still looked up to Yoda, the Jedi needed that infallible, all knowing leader when things got tough. They needed that safety and security. Far be it from Mace to take that away with his mission. No, some things needed to be done inconspicuously.

Thus Mace bombarded Yoda in the force.

_Its too early for this, master,_ he hissed over the bond that was stronger, and at times seemed older than the Temple itself. A certain bridge between them that was more than father/son, more than master/ Padawan. It was…Something _more_. He did not know what, did not want to contemplate it.

_Finish it sometime, we must, _was the immediate reply.

_I thought we agreed that whenever Qui-gon and Kenobi come up, we reserve their reports for the afternoon. I can't think straight in the morning. _

_Complain too much, you do. _

_Its because I'm going to have to be the one scolding them for disobedience and…Whatever else they've done this time. Honestly, master, I think you encourage them. _

He felt his master's disapproval through the force clearly. The other council members, oblivious to this contest of wills, spoke quietly to each other, all of them waiting for Jinn and Kenobi to arrive.

_Judge too quickly you do; master Windu. _

_Oh, don't you start with me. You know good and well you have a lecture waiting for the second Qui-gon steps foot in here. You don't fool me with your mystic act. You rehearse those blasted sayings._

Now Master Yoda was outraged.

_Rehearse them, I do not! From the force they come! _He snapped, a sure sign that Mace had hit a vein. He took the bait.

_The force doesn't come up with stupid axioms. 'There is only do or do not,' master? Really? What are we, in some sort of science fiction holo?_

_Jealous you are. A path to the dark Side this is. _

_Of what? Your scripted signs of waning age?_

_Says the bald one. _

_I'm bald because of you!_

_I? I have done nothing._

_I know it was you who switched my hair stuff with plant fertilizer!_

_Funny it was. But it was not I. Some youngling,_

_Or some very short oldling. _

_Short I am not!_

_Well, you aren't tall either. Wait, you're distracting me!_

_Hearing this report now, we __**are.**_

_Master, with respect… This is stupid. Who knows what new catastrophe Qui-gon's dragged that boy into? And who knows what sort of damage the boy has done trying to get out of the catastrophe? I can't contemplate compassion and life and mercy this early! _

_Do these things always a Jedi should. _

_You've had nine hundred years to practice doing it all the time. I'm not so experienced. Besides, humans need sleep. I didn't get any last night. _

_Ah, explains it that does. _

_What?_

_Why grouchy you are. _

_I am not grouchy! _

_Not friendly are you either. Her name, what was?_

_Master, I wasn't up doing __**that!**_

_Liar. _

"Master, I sense something amiss. Did Master Jinn give any indication to what the trouble they encountered was?" Master Shaak Ti suddenly asked, breaking into their argument. Mace showed none of the inner struggle on his face. Yoda likewise merely raised himself more imperiously in his chair.

"No," Yoda grumbled in his best stentorian voice. "Know anything I do not. Show us a way if there is a problem, will the force," with that said, Shaak Ti nodded and leaned back in her chair, more at ease with the universe in general now that Yoda's verdict had been decided.

_And you call me a liar. We do know something. We know that this is Jinn and Kenobi and thus when you have that mix you have turmoil and horror. There's really no other option there could be. _

_Stay positive. _

_I have lost all hope in the redemption of Jinn from his rogue ways. The boy has some potential, but he's a magnet for trouble. Ugh, I can feel the headache already. Can I plead migraine?_

_NO. _

_Why not? I have one!_

_Pain is an illusion. _

_Well, if I don't get something to stop the throbbing in my head soon I'm going to allude your chair out of the window. _

_Attack your master, you would not. _

_Yes, I would. _

_Come back to haunt you, I would. Watch you while you sleep. _

_You do that already. That's why I couldn't sleep last night. You farted in my room. _

_Remember that, I do not. _

_You probably passed out from your own fart fumes. _

_Woken me, your snoring would have. Sound like herd of banthas you do. _

_And its because of my snoring that I inhaled too much and choked. _

_Make fun, do not! When old you get, eat prunes you will have too as well. _

_At least I won't spy on other people!_

_So you it was not hiding in Master Edja's room two cycles hence? _Mace Windu nearly blushed and choked on his own breath. The exquisitely beautiful and often called upon friend of his had always been a subject for debate between them.

_Of course not!_ He lied. Then, worriedly he added _Why? Was there anyone in her room?_ Because if she were doing_ that_ with anyone else…

Suddenly, the force shifted. By instinct, the council sat up straighter in their chairs. Jinn and Kenobi were here. The meeting doors lid open to reveal the Padawan and master team. They stepped into the middle of the circle and bowed their heads neatly in unison. Before Yoda could offer up the customary greeting, however, Qui-gon spoke.

"Masters, I believe I have found the Chosen One," a sharp intake of breath met this announcement. Mace groaned inwardly. _I told you it was too early for this._


	3. Chapter 3

_Devotion_

Summary: Leia Solo wakes up to find that some assumptions have been made in her absence. Han was most displeased.

* * *

Leia Skywalker woke to the sight of a very bright light suspended above her. It was one giant blinding dot that stood poised upon times threshold, stable and unyielding, unmerciful and bold.

_What happened?_ Was her first coherent thought. Her soul felt detached from her body, floating idly in random air. The very act of seeing with eyes and not feeling with spirit, was strange, wonderful but strange.

She could not hear, was not aware of breathing, and yet she could see her chest rising and falling slowly. She felt as if she had just returned from a very long journey. The light was fuzzy at the edges. Round, indistinguishable. Overall it was merely strange.

The fact of this quickly faded into the sluggish recesses of her dull mind. She had no clue what had happened, but it hardly seemed to matter in view of such foreign light.

Groggily, she also registered a slight movement to her left. Or perhaps that was not her noticing the movement at all, but some extra extremity that before her life a few years earlier, she had not known about. The Force had been a thing of myth before she met Luke, before the order began again.

_Order._ The Jedi order. Yes, she remembered now. She was Jedi, part of the New Galactic Republic. She had fought for it, _believed_ in it, with the rebels. She had been part of some sort of history, she remembered.

Whatever it had been was not of extreme importance, was it? She could not remember. That, too, was odd. She was usually so skilled at memory. Han might attribute her lack of focus to old age, but she, for one, was not going to let…

_Han. _

Her husband. Han. Suddenly, in a painful moment of terrible clarity, Leia remembered. She gasped, and felt air whoosh past her as she sat up. Her ear rang in protest, blood pounded at her temples, demanding apology. "Leia!" Her soul snapped back into place with even more agony, searing from her an agonized shriek.

"Leia, lay down!" The command was rough and stern, but something in Leia told her that if she were to disobey it then the receiver would not be all that angry with her, or rather_ could_ not. She turned with eyesight still fuzzy and blotted from the above light to locate the owner of the voice.

The force picked a stamp to name the creature sitting in the chair beside her bed. Wait, what was she doing in a _medical_ bed? "Han?" Gingerly, she attempted to reach out to touch his face. Hard-worn, concerned dark eyes that looked into her very soul with bone aching grief gazed down at her. The force around him was drowned in disbelief and relief.

"Leia. Leia. Stars, you're a sight for sore eyes," his voice was a hoarse whisper. There were bags of sleeplessness beneath his eyes, rimmed with darkness and bloodshot with weeping.

The sorrow within those beautiful orbs she knew so well sent a pang through her own heart.

She had never seen Han look…Lost. He was always brash, sharp, direct. Han was a leader born, bred and raised. Anything less was not tribute to the core of him. He could be gentle, adoring even, and she loved that side of him equally, but there was nothing in Han Solo that was weak.

"What's wrong?" She whispered, and was startled by the stinging sensation in her throat. She was parched, and not only that, she had not spoken for a very long time it seemed.

"Don't you remember?" Han asked huskily as he eased her back down unto soft and yielding pillows beneath the light. She could hear his heart pounding, smell the acrid scent of sweat that he was emitting.

Leia's let her eyes wander over the rest of the room. It was dark, the only light coming from the overhead sun. It reminded her of the gentle summer suns she had known as a child on Alderran.

Then she let her gaze fall upon Han again. "No," she responded quietly. Han smiled, a bit bitterly, and gently stroked her brow. Leia leaned into the tender touch. She had forgotten, in those moments where her soul had floated outside of her body what this felt like.

What _he_ felt like.

"Well, sweetheart," he took one her small hands into his large, rough ones and played with her fingers with infinite care, as if he had never expected to be able to hold her hand again.

"There was a rally, protestors against the new sanction law you're promoting?" Sanctions, yes. That was some political mumbo jumbo that she was supposed to be into. Not that she wasn't, but…Still.

What had that to do with anything again? Leia remembered the rally, at least, remembered walking unto stage with thousands of pairs of eyes staring at her, with two somber and serious guards at her back. Those guards had been quite aggravatingly named Luke Skywalker and Lando Calrissian.

Luke had insisted on having Jedi intervention present. He had known the risks, her new law wasn't widely liked (Why, Leia could not remember, something about taxes and galactic powers and nonsense) and claimed that she would need all the protection she could get.

"You laughed," she told Han, after a moment of thinking. "What?" He seemed confused. "You laughed," she repeated, hating him for not understanding when she needed him for answers. "When Luke…When Luke wanted to come," she explained. Han nodded, squeezing her hand. "So you do remember," he concluded softly.

Leia gave a weary half shrug. She was very tired, and some of the soreness in her muscles was returning. What had she done at that rally, anyway? Skydive off a building? Or, not even that, she had done that before. Skydiving off buildings was relatively easy, and it didn't cause this many bruises.

"And yes, I did laugh. It isn't as if you don't know perfectly well how to defend yourself. You're almost as good with that Lightsaber of yours as he is by now, I reckon," ah, yes, Lightsaber.

That was part of the whole Jedi thing, wasn't it? She distinctly remembered Luke teaching her how to handle one of those. It had taken her awhile, but then the energized combat had been fun once she had learned.

"So…The rally?" she asked, getting back to original topic. Han's face turned stormy. His hand stilled over her brow. She could feel his hand trembling as he gazed down at her with haunted eyes.

Something was definitely, infinitely wrong. If only she were coherent enough to ask what it was! "Yeah. The rally. You got up there to defend the bill. I don't know why you feel the need to give those speeches on wooden platforms in the streets, Leia, we're modernized now," he growled. She had an argument for that too, she had an argument for most things, but she was too sore to give it.

"And?" she prompted. Han swallowed hard, glancing away. "And…There was a bomb. Luke didn't sense it in time. He feels really bad about that, by the way. It went off in the two buildings on either side of you. I think they're still picking up body pieces from the ground," he reported.

Leia felt a pang of guilt and anger. People had been killed, for the pure fact that they disagreed with something? A law, no doubt? That was what citizens were for, to challenge their leaders!

Not that Leia particularly liked being challenged and doubted every moment of her life, yet she could not deny that the right to free speech had been one of the rights she had spent half her life fighting for. And whoever would dare to impede upon such sacred rights had better have a pretty kriffing good blaster, because no one hurt her people without her direct rebuttal.

Revenge could wait, though. For now, the dead had to be mourned. "How many?" She rasped. Han shook his head sadly. "They don't know yet," he squeezed her hand again, reading the next question in her eyes. "And no, Luke and Lando are not hurt. Or, not badly anyway. Lando sustained a broken leg and believes that he deserves the medal of the century for his valor," here Han rolled his eyes affectionately.

"And Luke got a few deep scratches, but nothing life threatening. He's actually been here most of the time. He's helping look for survivors now," ah, that would explain it.

"Oh," Leia lay back another moment, letting the silence and the feel of Han's delicate touch soothe her jumbled mind. Something still felt missing. Something still didn't feel right.

"You never told me what was wrong," she realized with considerable pride in herself for having seen past Han's weak evasion attempts. He smiled dully again, then let the smirk shift from his face, He hadn't looked so grave since before Vader put him in the carbon freezing chamber…

Those weren't good memories, Leia shivered. Han noticed immediately. "Cold?" He hitched the blanket (when had that blanket gotten there?) higher unto her shoulders, tucking it beneath her chin.

"Don't worry, princess, I've got you," he soothed. Princess. His old nickname for her. Leia could not help but smile, letting the old name slug her bad memories away. At the moment, they were not important.

"Spill it," she commanded Han weakly then, after squeezing feebly his hand in thanks. Han shook his head. "Never could get anything past you," he noticed affectionately. "Han…"

"Alright, alright. Its just….Well, I'm fine now…Its only that yesterday afternoon, sometimes around midnight….Well….The doctors proclaimed you dead," he explained. Leia thought this over for several seconds, trying to explain to herself why exactly this seemed to have hurt Han so badly, and then came upon the recently discovered new fact.

He was her husband. She was his wife. "Oh," she gulped. Han nodded solemnly, his touches growing more urgent. "You are never to do that to me again, do you understand?" He growled, and the tenseness of his voice frightened her into nodding submission.

"Where is everyone?" she then asked. Han sighed heavily. "Lando barricaded himself inside his room. Chewie is on the way. Luke…He left. The nurses say he's helping with survivors, but personally I believe he's blaming himself in some corner somewhere. Speaking of which, I had better go get them and tell them you're awake," he said. Leia frowned.

"But…That's not possible," She muttered. "If I was dead, then how am I alive now?" She asked. Han shook his head.  
"Leia, I don't know anything about anything right now. All I know is that you're safe. That's all I need to know. Just stay that way, alright?" He asked. Leia once more nodded her promise, imagining how hard it must have been for him.

"How long have I been out?" She asked. "Three weeks," and they were still finding bodies? Leia blinked, bewildered. She was lucky to be alive, indeed. Trying to add some humor, to dispel the haunted look in Han's eyes, she wondered "did you miss me?"

Han did not smile at the pathetic attempt at a joke. "I missed you more than I would miss the stars if they ever went out. I grieved for you, Leia…" his hand trailed down to stroke her cheek. "It was if life had lost meaning for me, had lost its purity. Suddenly, all I could see was darkness and misery," he gasped. Leia looked into sincere deep eyes, staring into the pain which she knew still lingered there.

Her hand reached up, and Han grasped it between his fingers, kissing her palm fervently. "And here I thought you had a younger model just waiting in the closet somewhere," she stated.

Han managed to chuckle thickly at that one, but quickly sobered again, looking into her eyes with eyes drowning in tears. "You've only been officially dead for a few hours, not even two days, and yet it feels as if a lifetime. Its…Its good to see you, my wife," he choked.

His tears were enough to make her heart lurch with pain of its own. Her bottom lip trembled. He had missed her, mourned her, as she had mourned him when he had been frozen by carbonite.

The only difference between the two was that Han had still been alive, and she had known that, she had kept hope of his rescue, hope for his continued existence. There was no return from death; the force did not restore what it had taken. She knew how she would have felt if anything ever happened to Han…

"I could never leave you," she whispered thickly, her own grief added to seeing his. Han smiled against her palm, planting a last kiss on her skin. "You'd better not," he replied. A single tear made its way down his face, then dribbled off the tip of his chin.

"We need you, Leia. Me and Luke and the others. Stars, the entire galaxy needs people like you. Had you not woken up, I'm not sure what I would have done…Don't you know that?" He had obviously seen the surprise on her face, but it was not from the fact that he or Luke or any of the others had felt remorse for her, no. They were a team, had been a team since the rebellion, since Luke had defeated Vader.

She was surprised that he had said that the entire galaxy had needed people like her? Was it true? Was she one of those rare individuals like Luke who had helped shape something larger than herself? Did the galaxy really_ need_ her? Did any of them?

_Do I need them?_

Question answered. They all needed each other. "I do now," she responded quietly, and with a quiet peace. It was a good feeling-to need and be needed in turn. It was an even better feeling to be alive. Han nodded, seeing the look of serenity enter her eyes.

He smiled. "I'll go fetch the others. You should get some rest, princess. Do you need anything? Water? Food?" he asked, as anxiously as a mother thranctill. Leia nodded in agreement with the_ rest_ part, letting her hand slip from is as she leaned more thoroughly into her pillows.

"I need a datapad. I must come up with a new speech for the new tax law," she mumbled thoughtfully, anticipating Han's response to that. Han stared at her for a moment, dumbstruck, on the edge of protesting.

Then he laughed. "Stars above," he muttered, shaking his head as he stood. "I love you woman," and with that said, he turned, still chuckling, and headed towards the door to alert the others.

Leia smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

_Pretty stones_

Summary: Obi-wan has a present for his young one

* * *

"Master?"

"Yes, Anakin?"

"Why'd you give me this rock?"

"Can't you feel it? It's force-sensitive, Padawan."

"Oh, I know. Um…Is that the only reason you gave it to me?"

"Perhaps. What would you say if it were?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Well, I'd mind a little bit… Not much, though. It's a pretty rock."

"Do you know who gave me that pretty rock?"

"Master Yoda?"

"No,"

"Bant?"

"No,"

"Garen?"

"No,"

Hmm….Oh, I know!"

"Yes?"

"The_ Force_."

He laughed.

'The Force? And why would the force give me a rock, Anakin?"

"I don't know. Maybe it wanted you to figure out what it did,"

"Don't blasphemy. And you are incorrect. Qui-gon gave that to me on my thirteenth life day,"

"Really? And you're giving it to _me_?"

"Qui-gon would want you to have it."

"Thank you then, master. I will cherish it always."

"I know you will. Do you know what I said when he gave me that?"

"I bet you were more grateful than I was at first."

"Oh, you have to give me more credit than that, apprentice. I asked him 'master, why'd you give me this rock? What am I suppose to do with it?'"

Anakin laughed. "Just like me!"

"Yes, Padawan. So you see; I was once just like you, too."

"Does that mean I'll be like you one day, master?"

"The future is never set in stone."


	5. Chapter 5

Big sister

_Summary: Luke finds the gravestone of a certain Jedi Padawan years after Order 66_

* * *

_It's an old saying. One that I grew up on, and cannot recall a moment in my life when I haven't heard. Generations of Jedi have used it before me and I'm sure that generations will continue to use it after. _

_May the Force be with you. It's been said so many times that it has an infinite number of meanings, and can be used in almost every situation-and commonly is. We use it so frequently that saying it is as easy as breathing and as normal as walking. _

_However, I don't say it so much anymore, because mostly it's just another way of saying 'good luck,' and I will forever believe that if I had ever had any luck at all in my life (or if the Force had ever been with me) my life would never have been this much fun._

_-Ahsoka Tano_

Luke Skywalker had never met her. In all reality, he had never heard a single whisper of the name, or even rumors of the girl who had once been Anakin Skywalker's Padawan. And that, in itself, was odd.

Now that the Empire had been disbanded and a new government starting to rise, stories of the old Jedi had flitted to the surface. Survivors of the purge came from hiding, though they rarely spoke of their old order to anyone but Luke, at times Leia.

And even he was granted only sparing stories, shyly spoken. Luke sighed and placed his hands inside of his long sleeves, trying to ward off the sudden shiver the air had taken. He only had this scrap of information, this last eulogy, written in person, from the lost girl.

His father's lost girl.

He wished she had lived. He had heard more stories of the Jedi Knight named Anakin Skywalker than he would have liked. This being because he knew a great many of them were false. The stories people came up with involved a naturally cruel and insecure man. Vader had left a legacy on the galaxy, and it had tainted even his past, before the Dark Side. "_He was always close to the Emperor,"_ people would hiss to him.

_"__Probably plotted this from the very start. He meant to betray us all along!" _Yet he knew it was not the truth. Luke knew, with a bone deep intuition that before the Dark Side, his father had been a good man. Ben had told him so, in a few words thick with lethargy and affection. No one could fake that sort of loneliness. Perhaps Ahsoka could have told him more.

Perhaps she could have helped erase the final sight of his father from his mind, a husk of a handsome man, pale and scarred beyond imagining. Luke slowly willed his feet to move, to finally make his way amongst the graves.

There was nothing under many of the gravestones. They were flat pieces of metal pressed to the ground, some with names, others with titles, and more with the nicknames of the fabled people that had been taken during the Clone Wars. In fact; that was all they were; gravestones. All new, since the Jedi temple had been built only a year before, completed then. These stones had been placed; at Luke's insistence, right _here_.

There was one for Ben. Luke let a sad smile grace his features as he passed it with a quiet _"thanks Ben,"_ for luck. Or inspiration, whichever one Ben had brought to him first. Another for Master Yoda. His mother's rested beside his father's, though both bodies had been destroyed years earlier.

Vader's ashes had been spread across the grounds of Endor, into the mountains and plains so that something may grow from his memory, something that was not evil. Padme's had been buried under some grave on Naboo, her home planet. There were some others for more people he had never met. Mace Windu. Plo Koon. Sassi Tinn. Aayla Secura. Kit Fisto.

He had only ever met them in legend and stories. And his father had spoken of them, the rare times he had appeared to Luke. Ben had appeared a scant few times, only at the darkest hours before the dawn when Luke had wondered after his actions, had been eaten up by guilt or pressure. His mother had arrived only twice, and never spoken, just gazed at him with boundless love. It was always enough.

He had never seen Ahsoka, though. He stared down at her gravestone, with only that bit of writing on the front, and cocked his head, wondering at her. How old had she been when she died? _How_ had she died? The woman who had written this beautiful and wise soliloquy?

The Force rippled with some new presence. _"She never told me she wrote that,"_ Luke did not jump, his reflexes allowed that much, but merely swiveled his eyes to the ghost suddenly standing over his own gravestone, eyeing it as if he were making sure it fit his reputation.

_ "__The only Sith who came back, huh?_" his father, Anakin Skywalker, read aloud, scuffing at the ground with no little embarrassment. Luke felt worry start to nibble at him. "Would you have wanted something different, father?" He inquired quietly. Anakin looked up, and flashed that charming smile that reminded Luke so much of Leia.

_ "__For me? I'm lucky to have gotten a gravestone at all, my son,"_ he laughed humorlessly, and even in death Luke saw the pain of his past deeds in solemn eyes._ "It's painfully true, and much too merciful,"_ a moment of Silence. Luke knew that any reassurance that _he _knew who Anakin Skywalker really had been would fall on deaf ears.

Anakin knew that Luke knew that. But there was also more things that his father knew than Luke did. An eternity of wrong-doings that he had yet to atone for. Finally, the dead man spoke again.

_"__I love the new temple,"_ he gazed around as if seeing the entire structure, as hundreds of feet wide and long as it was. _"Reminds me of the old one, sort of," _he harrumphed with sad satisfaction. Luke had to smile as warmth spread in his chest. All he wanted-ever wanted-was to make his father proud. Then he looked back down at the tombstone beneath him. "Father?" he asked. Anakin looked up, and the sparkle in his specter eyes gave Luke the distinct impression that Anakin was _still _delighted whenever Luke addressed him by that title. "Who was Ahsoka Tano?" Luke asked. Anakin's face fell.

_ "__My Padawan? I've spoken of her to you, several times,"_ Anakin, pointed out, a tad nervously. "You've never spoken anything more than her name," Luke countered reasonably.

Anakin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, a trait he often exhibited when stressed. Not for the first time, Luke wondered just where his father had gone after death. It wasn't the hells, Ben had assured him. Yet he had never specified, only told Luke that he wasn't letting Luke's father out of his sight for the rest of eternity.

_"True. It's not a subject I like to speak of. She…She meant so much to me," _he confessed, with no little remorse. Luke frowned. "Is she… dead?" He asked hesitantly. There had been so many survivors of the Purge. So many people who had come back from the Old Order. Would she be one of them?

To his disappointment, his father nodded_. "Yes. She died years ago. By my hand, as I remember,"_ he mumbled. Luke did not find this surprising, though he wished he could have at least acted so. Darth Vader had killed many of his old colleagues.

_ "__Ahsoka was falsely convicted of murder during the Clone War. She was framed, but no one could prove it. And the Jedi's word meant little, during those dark days," _Luke inhaled sharply, though he knew this already from those sources he did trust. People had suspected Jedi of committing every crime that could not be explained.

"So?" he prompted. Anakin crossed his arms and cringed, eyes staring into Ahsoka's gravestone as if he could see her face there, in her words. _"She was condemned to die. Your mother defended and fought the courts with her every breath, and Obi-wan pleaded on her behalf with the Jedi Council, though I did not see it,"_ he smiled ruefully. Luke shook his head, condemning a Jedi… to die? It was unconceivable. Almost as unbelievable as a Civil war against the Republic.

That had happened too.

_"__In the end, though, the case was set and Ahsoka expelled from the Jedi Order and sentenced to die by the Senate. She was only seventeen years old, not even an adult by legal standards. The court case nearly broke her. She lost faith in the Jedi council those that had convicted her. And in the senate, which had held little faith from the Jedi anyway. I managed to drag evidence from the Temple, a traitor names Barriss,"_ his face screwed into something akin to pity.

_ "__She had fallen for the Dark Side's lies, as I did. With new evidence, Ahsoka was invited back into the Jedi, but…"_ Anakin's voice wavered, and Luke saw his fist clench, as if he were holding something very small and delicate in his hands_. "She refused. She left the Jedi…Left me. After awhile, people forgot about Ahsoka. I never saw her again,"_ Anakin reported.

Luke scuffed a bit of dirt away from the tomb. "Until you killed her," he guessed. Anakin nodded. _"Until then," _he agreed. Anakin suddenly looked down and away, the pain visible on his face.

_ "__She was the last Padawan we had yet to catch. We had been tracking her for months. Obi-wan… He tried to warn her, but… she did not want to believe it was truly me," _Anakin sighed wholeheartedly, as if he wished the same. Luke knew that he did.

Luke knew where the rest of the story led. Vader had caught up with his former Padawan, and struck her down, same as he had his former master and all of his Jedi kin. Luke could hardly believe the man before him, staring desolately at the ground with pain and remorse, was the man that had killed her.

"Was she a good apprentice?" He asked after a long pause. Anakin nodded numbly. _"Brave. Selfless. Cheerful. Witty. Determined. Intelligent. Perfect for me. She chased away despair and hate many of nights for me during the war. She brought smiles even to old Ben's face during the most stressing times. She was one of Padme's closest confidants My… My best friend,"_ Anakin looked up, and Luke saw his diminutive smile.

_ "__Force, I loved that girl,"_ he stated, voice thick with unhidden emotion Luke knew the feeling. He let his eyes wander over the gardens where the people she had once known were remembered. _"She did not deserve that. The courts punishment, I mean. She did not even deserve a master like me. Perhaps someone better would have been able to save her,"_ Anakin whispered in a lost voice. Luke cringed. He hated to hear his father speak so, yet... Was it true? How heroic a girl must she have been for his father to come from the dead to tell her story, though it obviously pained him too?

Luke hoped that Ahsoka would have been proud of his-_their_-progress. What they had done. Who the Jedi were now_. "She would be,"_ Anakin assured him, reading his mind. Luke turned his eyes to his father curiously, noting the saddened look in his eyes. "You've met her again?" He questioned.

Anakin shook his head. _"She became a part of the Unifying Force. She is the strand that binds all things together as one now. The force that you manipulate and that guides you. I am the ground under your feet and the air you breathe. Different, yet the same. I have not found her in all the years we've been together here in the netherworld of death,"_ he reported dimly.

His shoulder's sank with the disappointment of this_. "I… I suppose I deserve it. I just... I wish I could tell her how much she meant to me. How sorry I am,"_ Anakin started to vanish, taken away by some power that was beyond Luke's control. Another moment of silence passed.

The wind shifted, the world spun on its axis for a number of minutes. "Give the others my regards," was Luke's mandatory parting gift. Anakin nodded, as he always did, and gave Luke a lopsided grin.

_ "__May the force be with you… Luke,"_ the hesitation on his name was unexplained, for Anakin was gone. Luke bit his bottom lip and knelt beside the stone. His fingers gently reached down, tentatively touching the stone.

He let his fingers roam over the words, engraving them into memory, drawing strength from the cheeky challenge against fate and unhappiness. Prosecuted at seventeen. Terrible. Luke wondered if maybe Ahsoka had written this after she had left the order. After all, he had no clue who had put it there, or where they had gotten it from.

Had it been found in some archives? Or was it anonymous, as so many of these sayings were? Said by people that had once met Jedi, and heard them speak? Or so they said. Luke shook his head. He would never know. None of them would ever know Ahsoka Tano, The Chosen One's apprentice.

Only this one piece of her work, among the thousands of deeds she must have done. And no one knew who had put it there.

_ "__Well, maybe not no one,"_ Luke spun around, his lightsaber already in hand and body tensed…. But he saw nothing. No one. Luke couldn't help but smirk. He couldn't see her, but he could_ sense_ her there. Or something was there. _Someone._ Maybe someone who had become the binds that made all things one in the Force. A girl he had never met until now.

Luke closed his eyes and immersed himself in the Force. He could hear her laughter, soft as a twinkle of a bell. He could see her arms, graceful, as they extended out a green blade.

He could hear the jingle of chains around her wrists, binding but never breaking; and her last scream, not one of rage or defeat but of defiance and forgiveness; last sobbing breaths that whispered over the sound of a red saber _"Oh, my master…What have they done to you?"_ He could see her face, blurred and far away, smiling at him with a kind grin, just there…

Then gone. Never to be seen again.

Luke grinned, suddenly euphoria taking over. He had seen an angel. His father's apprentice. The one who had written and placed her own eulogy. _No wonder they got along so well,_ Luke contemplated, gazing down at the words. The words that would ensure generations after recalled Ahsoka and her memory and who she was; what she did.

She didn't just get slain at the hands of Vader as a defenseless nameless soul, or die with the name of democracy on her lips. She did not die with revenge a fire in her eyes and igniting her soul into bitterness, though she had been betrayed by her own master. Ahsoka Tano had died a true Jedi, in a time where other Jedi died as traitors.


	6. Chapter 6

_I am not Jealous_

Summary: Anakin is not jealous of some snot-nosed little orphan boy...Even if he is hanging around with _his_ master.

* * *

I am not jealous.

Let's get that kriffing straight right now. I am the Chosen One. Anakin Skywalker, the Hero with No Fear. What do I have to be jealous over? Heck, half the Jedi population is jealous of _me_. Including Obi-wan. So I am not jealous. No.

For some reason, people seem to think I am. I'm not. I mean, who would be jealous over _Obi-wan_? And of a Padawan Learner? I can't even remember the kid's name half the time, no one can, it's so long and complicated and just plain annoying. I think he said his friends call him Dae.

Dae against Anakin? Which name sounds cooler, now? Be honest. Never mind, it doesn't matter, I'm not jealous, and yes, if Obi-wan knew about any of this, he'd probably go on about how jealousy sprouts from attachment and attachment leads to fear and fear to leads to anger and the rest of the nonsense the Jedi think.

Some of their blasted code, I will admit, has a point. Everyone already suspects I'm attached to Obi-wan. It is only that the council does not make such a huge fuss about it like they do Padme and Ahsoka, and I think part of it is that one: I was Obi-wan's apprentice, and every good master sort of bonds with their Padawan, and vice versa. They can't scold me for being attached to the man who _raised_ me after his own master died.

You hear that, Dae? _Qui-gon Jinn_. He found me; he thought I was the Chosen One, which I am. And Obi-wan and I met through an outstanding, exciting, heart-wrenching turn of events that most people just plain call The Battle of Naboo. I don't, and Padme doesn't. Obi-wan never say's anything about it, and none of us push him.

Two; because he is Obi-wan Kenobi, esteemed, honored, and perfect Jedi Master of an unfathomable Order, the first in a thousand years to kill a Sith Lord, as a _Padawan learner_.

The Master of The Chosen One-that's me, don't forget-and the youngest person ever to be elected to the council. He has a bunch of other important names, too. They're just longer and I really don't feel like putting it all down. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of my master; he deserves every honor he's been given, more even, and I am truly grateful to have been his apprentice, but he irritates the living kriff out of me most of the time. That's why he's _my_ best friend.

And that best friend thing? It brings me to reason number three: you can't help but get attached to Obi-wan. I mean, no one can honestly do a thing about it. Even _Dooku_ likes the guy.

And me, well here's the thing, I had to spend fifteen years under the tutelage of grand master Obi, and in that time, I can write you a kriffing book about how much misery he's put me through. Seriously.

It'd be a pretty hard book to read because as Obi-wan himself likes to say in his mocking, superior tone, I have horrible grammar, spelling, punctuation and style. Whatever. I chop down droids, where in the heck is the literature fragment in that?

And even without all those things, my book would _still_ be a best-seller, and would bring tears into every reader's eyes. Particularly Obi-wan, because honestly, he's put me through a lot. I have put him through a lot too, granted, but…Really. Sometimes I hate him, very much.

Other times, I love him, too much.

Despite that amazing book I oughta write, just to make him feel bad the barve, he's just a naturally gravitating person. He doesn't even have to try. You can so tell he's the council's favorite, Yoda's little teacher's pet, when they're scolding me harshly for disobeying, so fumed up that in the next ten seconds I might just be expelled from the Order itself, when Obi-wan walks up, and they calm. Just like that. He'll walk up, put a hand on my shoulder, and smile. That easy.

And I'll never tell him this, but it makes me feel good when he does that. That man has a strong grip. You'd expect him too, he's Jedi, naturally strong and enduring, right? Well, his strong grip is different. I have a strong grip, too, but when I put my hand on someone's shoulder, you can tell it's a protective grip, a domineering, possessive grip.

I am a man who knows what's his and intends to keep it. You can tell when I look at you, with a hand on the shoulder of someone I care about. It just screams: _"mine!"_ Right at you.

Obi-wan does not do that. Obi-wan has a leader's grip, the grip of a good friend and mentor. The grip that tells you that he will always be there for you, even if everyone else in the galaxy that you love abandons you, he will not.

He will still guide you and comfort you, until you are back on your feet again. Even then, he won't leave, only step away and watch your back, because that's what he does, and always has done. The only way to break that grip on your shoulder is to take it away yourself, because he won't.

When you earn his trust, that is. Very hard thing to do, but hey, I'm the Chosen One, I was born to do the implausible. You've got a long way to go if you want to have_ our_ type of trust, Dae.

Anyway, it's just so dang easy to like Obi-wan. So painless, he makes it too easy.

At any rate, what was I talking about before this? Oh, right. Attachment. Well, I could write a book about that, too, but instead I'm going to finish up the rest of this stupid story. It all started when the Jedi council sent us out to help a Padawan, defending a Republic base somewhere near Tatooine, I think. Want to know why I said_ Padawan_ instead of fellow Jedi?

Because his master was dead. Shot clean though with dozens of blaster bolts according to the kid's account. So, of course, me and Obi-wan rush to the scene, all hyped up to help the poor kid. Ahsoka is right by our sides, nearly bouncing on her feet with anxiety.

After all, we all know what it's like to lose someone you care for in this war.

I had believed Obi-wan dead once before, at Jabiim, and Ahsoka had assumed me dead about four times, despite it being only a year and a half into the Clone War. Obi-wan….Well, Qui-gon haunts him sometimes, I think, and you could totally tell he was ready to do some serious soul healing when we got there.

Weird thing was, the kid didn't need it. Or, didn't have time for it, I should say, since he was being barraged with droids and his troops were all but nonexistent. I admire one thing about you, Dae. You were ready to fight until the_ death_ on that battlefield.

You strained your troops and made sure that all the important data was destroyed beforehand. After losing a master? That's something that would have never crossed my mind, but it did yours. I'll give you credit for that. You stepped up, and took in the situation like a Jedi.

Though, I get the credit for saving your sorrowful ass, so, I think we're even on the whole credit thing.

While Ahsoka ushered you inside, Obi-wan and I ransacked the entire droid army within minutes. Pretty impressive stuff, but you know, brilliant minds think alike. Anyway, when the droids were done and finished, all that was left was your dead master. I took care of _that _part. Obi-wan went to Dae; he insisted, and I let him.

The two of you were in that tent for _six hours _together, and just because I counted, that does not mean a single kriffing thing, okay? I just do stuff like that. I like to know where people are. I get a right.

I'm Anakin, deal with it. Moving on, when Obi-wan and you finally came out of the tent in the morning, you looked as if he had just communed with an angel. I could have laughed at the sparkle in his eyes, as if everything in his world was perfectly topsy turvy again.

I remember asking Obi-wan what he had said, just for the future, in case I ever came upon the same situation myself. I mean, the Jedi have never told the senate, I know because Padme found it a shock whenever I told her, but there were a lot of Jedi dying, even more than we reported.

And a Jedi secret I did not even let Padme in on, one I never told Ahsoka, or Obi-wan I knew either, though the both of them probably figured it out way before I did, was that a lot of the Jedi were not dying because of droids, or bombs, or battlefield wounds.

They died of either torture or suicide. Those were the two most common ones, so orphaned Padawan's were popping up like weeds. Someday I feared Ahsoka, or even me, could be next.

But that one mantra, keep your mind in the here and now, I think of that whenever this thought comes to mind. Obi-wan is a powerful Jedi, a worthy Jedi. He can handle himself. And I refuse to let Ahsoka be turned into an orphan. I refuse, she's too bright a girl, and I'd miss her too much, death aside.

All he said was a simple: "you'll know when the day comes," and walked away. Barve. Can't ever give me a simple answer, he has to make it sound all wise and mysterious, as if nothing in the universe is simply cut and dry. There are not many things, but those few; he won't even be simple with those. He has complicate things. Whatever.

So, we head back to Courascant, me nearly bouncing on my heels. I hadn't seen Padme in weeks, and the thought of running my hands through her hair, or seeing her radiant smile was making me excited.

Ahsoka was impatient, as well. She said she had an appointment to keep with one of her friends. I asked her if it was in the dojo and she only smiled and promised to do me proud. I laughed; she _always _does me proud.

You, blasted fiend, were still with _my_ master. He had barely left your side since we got on board, and I had seen him two times since then. Once when we were packing everything away into the cruisers, and the second time when we reported to the council. After that, he went traitor on me and deserted Snips and me to be with _you_.

And no, I am not jealous.

I was… _Concerned_, so I went to check it out. Turns out you two were in the map room, and speaking some weird foreign language that made me dizzy. You were chattering away excitedly, pointing out various stars on the holo-map with Obi-wan.

He stood next to you, arms crossed, placid smile in place. I could tell he was in the mentor, teacher, master mode again, and decided to ditch before he caught sight of me and invited me to join your _stimulating_ conversation about constellations.

Then I heard you ask, like a little puppy dog, all sweet and innocent. "Did your master like constellations, master Kenobi?" Oh, no. I stopped, worried. None of us ever talked about Qui-gon.

I had never asked about Qui-gon. It was a topic we just never spoke of with Obi-wan. _None_ of us, I don't even think _Yoda _brings up his very name in the same room as Obi-wan.

You did, Dae, and I was ready to hear the clipped and terse response that Obi-wan usually gave everyone else. Yet, he only chuckled remorsefully and shook his head, sighing.

"No, Dae. He was not the star chart type. Neither was I at first, really. One of my old friends got me into it," he confided. My jaw dropped. He had answered you. He just answered you, and you asked about _Qui-gon_. Incredible.

"I've always loved them," you confide softly. "I love the stars. They're so bright, and beautiful. Did you know they aren't actually burning?" he asked. Obi-wan nodded, and I saw the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "I know. It's a process called fusion," he agreed.

I blinked, a process called who? "What about Master Skywalker; did he ever like the stars?" That elicited a barking laugh from him, all right. Me, like stars, constellations, suns and nonsense?

Not likely.

"Anakin? Oh, force, _no_. He hates them, but for some reason he likes flying," he laughed. I nodded, very accurate observation, master. Glad you got the picture. Your face scrunches up as if he had just blasphemed. "I don't mind flying, but I think that you shouldn't do anything_ too_ fancy," Dae, you little Chosski, you quoted him _exactly_.

Obi-wan seemed exhilarated by your agreement. Suck up. "We are of the same mind on that, Padawan," he agreed, putting a hand on your shoulder. You smiled, serenely, into the holo-map.

"Flying is for droids," you quipped. "And bombs are for barbarians," Obi-wan went on, as if it were a poem. You look up, a fierce sparkle in your eyes. "Waste is for warmongers," you continued. "And knives are for lunatics," hmm, I guess it might have been a poem.

I certainly would not know. I do not read poetry. "These are the rules you must learn and live if you do not wish to be a droid, barbarian, warmonger, or lunatic!" You two laugh in unison, at some private joke.

That's it, if you're having private jokes with Obi-wan, I needed to step in and reassert some authority. "Ah, Anakin," Obi-wan said as I waltzed in and pushed myself in the middle of you two. "How long until we arrive on planet?" He asked.

"Rex estimates another hour and a half, master," I answered, glancing at you as I said _master_. Learn your place, youngling. Obi-wan opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, you just had to jump in. "Master Skywalker, do you know which star this is?" You pointed down to some random dot somewhere in the mid-rim, over Naboo.

Obi-wan watched me curiously, his eyes strangely unwaveringly intense, waiting for the answer. Well, constellations may not be my strength, Dae, but being a _General_ of the Republic, I have to know how to read a stupid map. "Sure," I snapped.

"It's Julu's star," or, something along those lines. It was _somebody's_ star; I knew that. It had been named after someone. Obi-wan sighed in the way that let me know he was disappointed for some reason, and shook his head. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, blasted no good suck up. "Are you sure, master?" You asked me, dubiously.

"I thought it was Master Qui-gon's star," blast, you trapped me, you little….No, I'm not going to finish that sentence. I looked at Obi-wan, disbelieving, but he was smiling at you, clearly pleased that you had known. "You are correct, Dae. That is Jinn's star, named after Qui-gon by queen Amidala a few days after he died. It is the brightest star in Naboo's sky," what? Padme named a star after Qui-gon? Why didn't anyone ever tell me anything important like that?

"Oh," I muttered, embarrassed. I mean, I probably should have known that. It was the one star named after an incredible man, a mentor who had saved me from slavery.

I really ought to know where his star is, but in my defense…I have never_ asked_ about Qui-gon before. No one has. It's just…No, you don't do it, not to Obi-wan. What sort of demon were you, that you could, Dae?

The weird, smug type. You grinned up at me, and the success lighting your eyes was enough to drive me livid. Obi-wan was done with me for some reason. He turned to me. "Was there anything else, Anakin?" He asked, and he sounded very impatient, as if my presence was a nuisance to him. "No," I mumbled, fuming.

I mean, how am I supposed to know stuff like that, Obi-wan? You tell me. "Then I will see you at the council report," dismissed, like a youngling. "Where are _you_ going?" I demanded. You and him exchanged glances, like you knew something…And that, that got me there.

That is my job, to exchange secret, meaningful looks with Obi-wan. I'm the one who's supposed to be able to read his mind like an open book. I spent fifteen blasted years with him! I know him, you don't, you shouldn't, no one should.

And for force sakes, I am not jealous!

"I have a…Favor to keep," Obi-wan said, with a sly grin. You nod, face perfectly flaccid. The urge to grab Obi-wan by the arm-or, heck, I could always sling him over my back-and drag his traitorous behind back to the temple to spar with me until he gets it into his thick, reclusive skull who exactly has best friend rights to him is so strong I can almost see it in my mind's eye.

But I don't, because I am not a youngling anymore. I'm an adult. And adults take things with dignity and serenity. So, swearing eternal revenge on you for embarrassing me, I slip out the door and back to Ahsoka.

That was a night I expected to spend with Padme, but no. No. She was out on some diplomatic mission on Rodia or Ryloth or Naboo, whichever one Threepio said, knowing him he could have garbled out all three and meant a completely different planet instead.

That means I have to sleep in the temple. Usually, this also means spending more time with Ahsoka or Obi-wan, which isn't so bad, but Ahsoka is with Master Plo reminiscing or whatever. And where is the blasted barve I call master? He's with you again.

_Joy._

Which means I have to go after the two of you because, again, I was concerned. Following this instinct to_ protect_ and dominate, I scoured the temple. Which is another thing that bothers me. Usually I don't have to look for Obi-wan.

Even halfway across the galaxy I can sense him. I can feel him through the force, like a shining star in the endlessness of space. But I can't sense him this time, and in the past whenever I can't sense him it means something is wrong. He never shields from me. Ever.

So, mildly panicking after a few straight minutes of looking in all his favorite spots, I finally found him. In the indoor garden, where lined through long and ceaseless stacks of wooden boards that hold, inside, exotic plants from all over the galaxy.

Small insects buzzed around and a warm mist hung limp in the air, the air is crisp with oxygen and smells of soil. I remembered being in here with him when I was a kid fresh from the badlands of Tatooine.

Fine, it was only once, all the pretty plants bored me after about an hour, but it still has sentimental value in the fact that I wasted an hour of my life in here. Now, you two are doing the exact same thing, and wondering what the heck you're doing because, of all things, Obi-wan is _not_ a natural gardener, though I wouldn't have been surprised if you were good at that, too.

You were. I can see it in the way he was observing you as if he was learning from Master Yoda the ways of life and wisdom. His eyes were attentive and respectful, more open-minded than he ever is with me as he watched you do whatever it is you were doing with the plants. And what is that supposed to mean anyway? What made Dae better than me?

I mean, I'm the Chosen One, and furthermore, I've got fifteen years experience with Obi-wan, he should respect_ me_ and be this attentive to_ me_ like he's doing with a wayward pup such as you.

Is it because you lost your master, too, you little snot-rag? But that doesn't make any sense! Obi-wan's died once and I never gave up on him. Force, _I_ was the one who healed his mind and soul after Ventress got done with him. This relationship thing you two have got going on here does _not _work with me.

Maybe it's just that you were so abandoned. Yep. That had to be it. The renowned Kenobi compassion leaking through again. He'll do anything for anyone as long as they're good people, and sometimes he'll do whatever for bad people, too.

It depends on the situation and his thrice-cursed points of view. I got Obi-wan back, but you aren't getting your old teacher back from the dead, are you Dae?

You're a wayward, lost, pitiful _pup, _and Obi-wan's duty as a compassionate Jedi Master of this Sacred Order compels him to spend time with you, though he's internally tortured because of his longing for time with me. Yes.

See there? And whoever said I was jealous?

Deciding that Obi-wan should not be forced to suffer on your account, I strode in confidently. "Hey, mast-" he cut me off with a sharp look; arms crossed, then started watching you again. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, master, the jig's up. You can stop pretending now.

It did not look like he was pretending. He was staring at you, and huffing I curiously wandered to his side to glare down at whatever spell you've used on my master.

For some reason which I really could not care less about if I tried, (and trust me, I did try) you were kneeling by a large carnivorous plant. It wasn't one that stalked its prey, merely a simple flycatcher, but I could sense the force around you, working its wonders. I glared, wondering if you were really speaking to a flower, Dae. And if so, how much I underestimated your pathetic nature. But no, you weren't.

You were making flowers bloom early from this plant, coaxing life from it's roots, creating an air of supernatural beauty as slowly the large violet and maroon flowers sprouted all along the stem. Frankly, it was pretty cool. But not cool enough.

After a minute, I couldn't stand the look of wonder…Or, no, I mean _pity _for your poor soul on Obi-wan's face anymore and I decided to spare your pride by loudly clearing my throat.  
Your spell ended and the air returned to its normal self while you opened your eyes and looked up at me, startled. Ha, take that you little brat. Jedi should not let their guard down so easily, I do not care if this _is _the temple. "Master Skywalker!" You stammered, as if you _really_ hadn't done anything wrong by seducing a master of this Order.

"It is good to see you again. What brings you?" I almost snorted. Please, you thought you were so innocent, as if no one could see into that devil heart of yours. But being the Chosen One, and a former slave at that, I'm very good at seeing through the skin to the evil soul inside people like you, who seemed so very _good._

Obi-wan is _mine_. I ignored you, pointedly, and looked at Obi-wan. "I've been looking for you," I told him, to express my deep-founded concern that of all times he was shielding from me now.

"Were you?" Obi-wan may be the fabled Negotiator, and as such he can lie and coerce and manipulate like it's nobody's sweet business, but he can't ever do those things to _me_.

He's never tried, and I know that though he stalls sometimes and manipulates my life sometimes, he won't ever lie to me in a hurtful way. It's not in him to hurt those that he trusts.

It's all in the eyes. He can try and make them as blank as feasible, but it never works with me. I _know _him. I know him well enough to also know that I've been searching for him and that he is shielding from me.

The only question was why was he stalling with me? Huh, Dae? What'd you do to him, Dae? What kind of thrice-cursed, no good, lying little sneak are you Dae? And why can't you go find someone else's master to coerce into your evil ways?

"Yeah," I informed him huffily. "Garen is back at the temple and told me to challenge you to a spar with him. I want to watch and bet against you," okay, so I made up half of that.

It wasn't something that Garen _wouldn't _do, per se, but he never actually challenged Obi-wan. I knew he was back, though, so I figured he could drop everything and help support my cause.

Garen was always around during my apprenticeship. He was sort of like the crazy uncle who would help me get away with things behind Obi-wan's back. Sometimes Quin-lan and Siri would pop up.

Quin-lan was the_ other_ crazy uncle who I could always go to if I wanted to talk bombs and crashing political parties with. Siri is a good combination of telling me how best to bug Obi-wan, and all the embarrassing stories from his childhood that I can use to blackmail him with.

I see Bant whenever I walk into the healers ward to visit Obi-wan after he gets hurt all over again. She's always been his staunch devotee…Even if she likes to yammer on about all the old folk tales about my master in the healers ward, some of which have made Obi-wan blush like a little boy.

From the few stories I've been told, those five were sort of the trickster's troupe as younglings. Obi-wan refuses to answer when I ask him, but Garen always assured me he was the leader and master mind criminal of their misdemeanors. At the twinkle in Yoda's eyes the first time I asked him, I know it was true.

"Can I watch?" then you had to go and say something like that. What is it with everyone and Obi-wan? I mean, Dooku, Ventress, Grievous, Yoda, why does everyone want him? He's mine, for force sakes. He's my master, my mentor, my father and my brother.

And I'm not jealous.

"Garen wants to get flattened, does he?" Obi-wan clucked, shaking his head critically. "Well, usually I would cater to his whim, and force knows he deserves it, but perhaps later. I have some business to finish with the council," force, I couldn't have loved Yoda more at that moment.

I mean, I've never really liked the old midget, even if my respect grew for him when he saved me and Obi-wan from Dooku. But if his stupid meetings kept Obi-wan away from you, you little devil, then it was fine with me. "I'll tell him he's on for later," I only hoped he was not busy later.

Obi-wan nodded to me, (notice he didn't say much to me in the first place, which was another change) Squeezed your shoulder and headed out. We watched him go, and you waited until he was out of earshot, mysteriously before you spoke. "He cares for you, Master Skywalker," ah, so _now_ whose the jealous one, Dae?

"More than he should, I think," now wait just a minute; I looked down at you, eyes narrowing. What would you know about who Obi-wan does and does not care for who, huh Dae? That is explicit knowledge which should only belong to_ me_. "What do you mean by that?" I demanded, because that tone of voice is _way _too critical. Remember that you are a Padawan learner, Dae. And I'm a Knight. The greatest pilot in the Jedi Order…

And a Knight. Which means I out rank you, you little snot monster. "Nothing, master, just…Nothing," you bowed to me, an obvious dismissal which you have no right to give by the kriffing way, and scurried off like the coward you are, were and always will be. No one judges my master but me, and no one else is allowed to be his best friend but me. He's mine.

And I am not jealous.

Not yet.

* * *

I wrote this a few years ago, and never finished it (I think you guys can tell) but I couldn't resist putting it up again because it always makes me laugh.

~QueenYoda


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